Re:Cursed

Chapter 183 - 179: Tributary

Nyxala pulled herself through the tight crawlspace she'd carved for herself. The wall besides the tall doors was thicker than she'd expected, and it had taken a few minutes for her eye to carve its way through.

Good thing she hadn't chosen to skirt around the edges; she wouldn't have reached the final Tributary hall before her ID badge disintegrated.

The task would have been made quicker if she had been able to use her acid, but after Lysyra's strong reaction to the smell, she had to take it from its assigned stealth mutation category. According to her Invowed, if the Worshippers had noses, they would smell it.

She stuck her hand out the other side of the hole, and accepted Lysyra's help. It was very convenient to have an invisible partner. The girl could go first and make sure Nyxala wasn't about to be spotted the moment she shoved her head out into the open.

"So, uh," Lysyra started, her eyes everywhere but Nyxala. "You won the bet and get first choice, but can you choose quick? There is a lot of stuff here."

It was as she said. The massive circular chamber was filled to the brim with treasures so numerous it was almost incomprehensible. Fingers, toes, eyes… so many body parts pierced by electrodes and preserved for storage. A heart was bound to a machine, electric pulses forcing it to beat and pump blood through tubes. Bones connected to a drip, siphoning an eternal supply of marrow and the fluid of life. Huge stacks of them.

All that blood immediately pulled towards Nyxala. The tubes held, albeit now distorted towards her.

Parts both beastly and human were everywhere. Sacrifices of all sorts were cleaned and ready for ritual, yet lay dormant before the shrines of countless broken machines. These, at least, were modern.

Any sort of resource Nyxala could imagine, it was here. From piles of common BD to the bizarre and obscure. There were vials of glowing gold ichor that warmed her mind just by looking.

If there was anything they could desire, chances were, they'd find it here.

"Unfortunately, I think it's best if we don't touch anything until we've found my sceptre," Nyxala whispered. "If they gave these passkeys to Scriptures, to outsiders, then I don't believe for a second they don't have an alarm tied to all this wealth. Even if they don't let them in this deep."

And what a wealth it was. Nyxala could barely hold herself back from diving in and taking her weight in goods. They had only just entered, and she already spotted two skulk shrouds just laying out in the open.

It was unfathomable. Were they not at war? Were the Worshippers so assured in the power of their machines that they refused to use this wealth of resources that would, without doubt, end the war? The Technocult had its armoury to fall back on, but that didn't contain enough sacrificial power to summon a god a thousand times over. Not like this place.

"Come on," she said, tugging at Lysyra's elbow. The girl was drooling. "Find what you want, and when we no doubt have to make a run for it, we'll come past."

Nyxala considered the Technocult's organisation a mess. But this place made their incomprehensible sorting strategy look perfect. The only structure she could see to this chaos were the dead machines held aloft on pillar-like shrines. They rose high into the air. Sometimes more than twenty metres. It worked to keep the auspicious subjects of worship above all else, sitting on mountains of wealth, but otherwise it seemed detrimental. How would anyone find anything specific when it was buried deep beneath the pile?

The answer was obvious, of course. This was tribute. Nothing was meant to be taken after it was placed here. But even then, why did the Machine God not use everything offered to the lost machines to improve itself. The Worshippers wouldn't refuse.

At least there was a carpet to walk on; some active ritual seemed to keep the unbalanced piles from toppling over the walkways.

With only one path to walk, she moved towards the centre of the chamber. Lysyra went first. She would remain invisible to make sure they didn't happen to walk headfirst into one of the few machines or Worshippers that lingered in this towering treasury. Her sharp sight worked, yet it could hardly be considered reliable in such a chaotic space.

The immense piles worked in their favour. Not all rose to the same heights, but they rarely fell so low as to give anyone a clear sight as they squeezed through the narrow gaps between valuables that seemed to bend inwards without ever falling to the carpet.

Nyxala halted when she felt Lysyra's fingers press into her chest. The invisible girl didn't speak, so neither did she. Her fingers didn't relent, so Nyxala backed up until she heard the whisper tickle her tendrils.

"Two arachnoangels and three Worshippers. Can't go that way."

Nyxala frowned. But that was the only path that seemed to go towards the largest, most well adorned door at the other end of the Tributary. Her eyes darted around, landing on the low points in the piles.

"If you find a path out of their eyes, I'll fly over."

Lysyra hummed her assent, and was gone.

While she waited, and to distract her from the many very expensive tools that tempted her, Nyxala settled her gaze on the sharp edges of one arachnoangel.

The machine was walking away from the Worshippers. It was alone. By the way its sharp feet moved, it was not so bound to the carpeted earth as the Worshippers. The mechanical spider clambered over the piles of wealth as if they meant nothing.

Nyxala felt comfort in its steps. While they were casual and slow, it meant they hadn't been discovered. This was not a place welcome to outsiders. Should they be discovered, Nyxala could only imagine the weight of the response they'd face.

If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

The long spindly leg froze.

In an instant, Nyxala's heartbeat skyrocketed. She didn't know whether the act was intentional or involuntary, but she was suddenly given an unmitigated awareness of every microscopic change to the arachnoangels movements, not that there was much.

Stress clawed at her throat as the seconds passed and the machine continued its frozen stance. Had it found them? Slowly, it twisted its body, the head faced the centre of the chamber, as if something had troubled it, but it wasn't sure what.

Panicking like this wasn't going to help her. No matter how beneficial an improved reaction time was. Nyxala forced her heart to slow.

And not a moment too soon. Lysyra appeared from nowhere, already pointing to the part of the tribute mountain Nyxala would have to pass. "There. You have a few to leap, but it's the safest way to our target."

"Let me carry you," Nyxala said. "I think an arachnoangel spotted you. Or was at least tipped off to your presence when you went through the heart of the room."

Lysyra's furrowed her brows. She didn't like the idea that someone had seen through her invisibility. "Fine. But if they've caught a whiff, then it won't be long before they find us. We best be quick."

Nodding, Nyxala let her wings sweep back her cloak. She grabbed Lysyra under the shoulders, and before her tentacles had fully wrapped the girl tight, they flew over the ridgeline. Landing, she immediately cast her sight back to that wary arachnoangel. It was moving back to the centre, and not towards them. Good.

"Where to now?"

Lysyra directed her over three more mountains until they finally reached their goal.

"Shit." The whisper barely left Lysyra's mouth as she returned from inspecting the gate to the final chamber. "Steelfae."

Unlike the rest of the massive chamber, the area before the massive doors was left bare. Just as Lysyra had said, there it was. A Steelfae. She once had the misfortune to experience the terror they could inflict, back when she was held by the Worshippers. The most apt description for them would be mechanical songbirds… but such would be misleading to the extreme. Sure they had an avian shape, with a beak that let them 'sing' and wings imitating her own, but that's where the similarities stopped.

"You've seen one?" she asked.

"Doesn't matter if I hadn't." Lysyra shook her head. "There's no mistaking that thing."

Nyxala didn't know if the one guarding the door they needed to get through was the same as what she'd seen years ago, but she could never forget the sight it made. The dull grey steel shimmered with an oily sheen of colours, but it was no rainbow hue. It was a spectrum of colours that her mind could only comprehend as sickening and burned the back of her eyeballs with the taste of grinding rock and pus.

Whatever the Worshippers had summoned to inhabit those machines, it was beyond the arachnoangels.

"Let's try to dig around." Nyxala motioned for the side. If they could enter the guarded hall the same way they'd gotten through the rest of this Tributary, then they could avoid even looking at the horrific songbird.

Five minutes later, they found that no, it would not be so easy.

Whether Nyxala had been able to eat away at the metal earlier because of how ancient it was, or this place was just defended with a far more impressive alloy, she had failed to so much as scratch the surface of the walls at the sides of the gate. It was unlikely to be any different if she tried to go around and enter from the side. They needed to find a way past the Steelfae.

Not only that, the door was sealed tight. Likely beyond her means of opening. At best, she would need to bait one of the higher creeds into opening the door for her. Or…

Unfortunately, Nyxala had a terrible idea. One she refused to enact.

She checked her pocket, and found that not only were there twenty components sitting loose, one of Tarchon's chip additions had fallen off. They didn't have time.

Nyxala's terrible idea was no longer something she could refuse.

"Let me know if there's anything you want, because in a minute, you might have to pop," Nyxala said, looking herself up and down. There was something she needed… but from where?

"Wait," Lysyra paled. "You're not going to make a Dark Star, are you?"

"What? No." Right, she had told Lysyra about that. "I'd rather not get trapped for years again. My idea is a bit less destructive."

"A bit?" she repeated.

"You don't care about a Worshippers' mausoleum, do you? Now hurry up and tell me what you've got your eye on before I start."

Lysyra looked unconvinced, but relented and brought Nyxala to a glass box with a rather unsettling bone corkscrew clasped within. "It's a Bodytwister flesh-drill dagger. Getting one of these the proper way would be impossible."

"A dagger?" Nyxala leaned in close, daring not to touch it. "Looks more like a syringe. Well, a syringe bent into a spring."

"It technically works as both," Lysyra said. "If there's time for a second, I saw this scroll of cognitive vision expansion. They probably stole it from the Cult of the Everseeing Eye, but I could really benefit if I could learn it."

In a hovel hidden behind stacks upon stacks of sacrifices and valuables, Nyxala laid down her cloak. She didn't want to risk altering the carpet of the Tributary. From her robe, she pulled her blood-filled knife and tried to paint runes with the tip as if it were a brush. Unfortunately, and predictably, the blood slipped from her cloak and curled up her arm.

Please, work with me here, she pleaded. What do I need to do for you to stay where I want you?

As if hearing her, the bloody crawl stopped. It dripped from her fingers and slid along her cloak until two words formed.

LOVE US

Nyxala ignored the strange look Lysyra was giving her. Love you how? She wasn't going to question blood's strange awareness. Not when she was finally getting something out of the name besides blind obsession.

EMBRACE US

How can I embrace you any more than I have? Nyxala felt like tearing her hair out. You're already flowing through my body.

EMBRACE US

Nyxala sighed, and without knowing what it could mean, she took the words at face value. Reaching down, she splayed her arms in a welcoming gesture, feeling foolish all the while.

When the blood pooling in her cloak suddenly leapt up to join the rest as it slipped from her robe to form a floating blob before her, she didn't know what to think. It was only made worse when the bloody blob took on a humanoid shape. This crimson facade of a nightmarish child reached up to her, its own arms wide.

The proper response to a monstrous manifestation of blood reaching up at you would be to kick it and run screaming. Nyxala leaned down and embraced the repugnant child.

Her hug lasted a full ten seconds before the blob splashed down around her feet like it was suddenly too shy to stick around.

THANK YOU ♥

Nyxala glanced to the side, where Lysyra snapped her gaze away and scratched at her neck.

WE WILL HELP FOR NOW

For now? She had a bad feeling next time the price would be a bit more than a hug.

Nyxala barely had to slip the image of the ritual circle into her mind and the blood spread to recreate it. No need to paint it herself. If her blood would be this cooperative all the time, it would be incredibly powerful. Maybe even her strongest name. She knew the Scriptures would kill to have a way to paint whatever ritual they wanted into the world in seconds. Even Ezaltena's were accomplished by inscribing the runes first into her body.

And Nyxala's blood could float, too. Unbound by surface.

"Ly͚sy͚rã, you might want to leave. I'm not so sure you'll remain unaffected by his presence even through one of your replicas."

"His?" she repeated, seemingly unsettled despite everything she's already seen. "Who?"

Nyxala took her knife and sliced off the skin at the end of her elbow. It should be good enough. Besides, she had a mutation to welcome in the area when the skin never regrew. Even if it wasn't enough, there was a Tributary full of high value sacrifices surely even he would accept.

"Euphoria."